As It Should Be
by That Gryffindor Flame
Summary: Sherlock is ill, and it's up to John to take his mind off it. And out of everything, what does he come up with? A DISNEY MARATHON! That never happens. Slash, Watson/Holmes. Please review xxx


John Watson was very confused. Sherlock hadn't left his room that day, and it was already 12:30. This, you may have guessed, never _ever_ happened. He went and tapped lightly on Sherlock's bedroom door.

"Sherlock?" He called, "It's half past twelve already. Are you up?" There was a small moan from the other side of the door, the doctor's brow furrowed. "Sherlock? May… Can I come in?" There was a small noise that John took as an ok, and opened the door.

Sherlock's room was usually as bright with light as his eyes, but not today. The curtains were shut so no light entered the room. No light was on, not even the small lamp by Sherlock's bedside, the black one.

"Sherlock?"

"Yer…"

"Are you ok?" John asked worriedly, coming to the detective's side.

"Really bad stomach ache, don't feel good, headache, everything hurts…" Sherlock moaned softly, burying his face deeper into his pillow.

John frowned and felt Sherlock's forehead; it was extremely warm. John turned on the lamp, the black one, by Sherlock's bedside, and the man in bed nearly whimpered when the light hit his eyes.

"I'm sorry," John whispered, seeing for the first time how pale his friend was, "God you are really sick Sherlock…"

"M'know thanks." Sherlock muttered, "Any… Do we have any cases to solve?"

"You are not solving anything today Sherlock Holmes." John said firmly, "You are going to stay in bed, I'm going to get you some pain killers, ok?"

"Ok…" Sherlock nodded, then winced in pain, clutching his head, "Thank you…"

John startled, that was the first time he had ever heard Sherlock say thank you, to anyone, he smiled. "That's ok Sherlock."

When he came back, with water and painkillers, Sherlock was sitting further up against his pillows, trying to get up. "What are you doing?" John asked him.

"Was wondering if we could watch a film…" Sherlock said weakly, looking at John with pleading eyes, "If you don't mind…"

John smiled for the second time that day, "Of course not, you get your dressing gown on, and I'll put these in the living room and turn the telly on."

As soon as he was in the living room, placing down the items in his hands, he heard stumbling footsteps, he sighed, obviously Sherlock was dizzy as well. He went back, again, and helped his friend to the couch in the living room.

"I never remember feeling so helpless," Sherlock muttered, "It's the worst feeling ever. I'm sorry to be a burden John."

_Jeez_, the other man thought, _'I'm sorry' and 'Thank you', all in the same ten minutes, he really is ill._

"You're not being a burden, we all get sick. I don't mind helping you and making sure you're ok, you are my friend."

"Yer… friend." Sherlock muttered, and though John was confused he took no notice and asked Sherlock what film he wanted to watch, "Something I've never seen before and will take my mind off feeling ill?" John grinned widely, "Oh god, what are you making me watch?"

John dug around in the cabinet they used to keep their DVD's in. "The Disney marathon starts now." He grinned, bringing out a loud of cases, Sherlock groaned, this time not from the headache or the stomach ache. "Let's see… We have Enchanted, Ants, Stitch, Stitch 2, Ratatouille and Treasure Planet."

"You choose." Sherlock murmured, "I don't mind."

"You sure? Ok, Ratatouille it is." John put the film into the DVD slot, and then sat on the sofa next the detective. Sherlock moved a little closer to him.

"M'cold." He said in explanation, as he stole a little bit of the duvet John had brought in to cover himself, their feet pressed together as they edged closer to each other. They watched the film, it lasted just over two hours, and Sherlock even enjoyed it, he smiled. "Thanks you John, I don't feel as rubbish now."

John made to get up, but Sherlock put his legs over John's and made him sit down again, "Sherlock!" The doctor laughed, "Get off!"

"No…" Sherlock said, almost whimpered, "No."

"No what?" John asked,

"Don't move, don't go."

"I was just going to put a new movie Sherlock, I wasn't leaving."

"Everyone leaves," Sherlock whispered, closing his eyes, "They all leave me eventually, they get bored with my wit, they get bored with me being right, they get bored with everything to do with me and they leave. You'll leave me to, eventually, I think that's the one I'm going to be most upset about John, when you leave."

"I'm not going to leave you Sherlock." John whispered,

"You are. You're going to want to get married to some pretty girl from next door, have a life, you'll forget all about me. It'll happen, you'll see."

"What? You want it to happen?"

Sherlock sniffled a little, shaking his head, "Of course not. Didn't I just say I'll be the most upset when you leave?"

John smiled and shifted closer to Sherlock, who put his head on the doctor's shoulder, and circled his arms around John's waist. "I am not leaving you, ok? Never. I'm staying right here. You know why?"

"Why?"

John lent forwards, and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, which blushed bright red. "That's why." He whispered, "You know, I have never seen you blush Sherlock Holmes, never."

"I am not blushing."

John lent closer, Sherlock went redder, "I beg to differ." And when the world's only consulting detective blushed even brighter, it made John grin uncontrollably.

They fell asleep, at 02:53 in the afternoon, cuddled up together. It was Sherlock who woke first and as he looked at the arms that held him tightly he smiled and whispered, "I feel better now John, much better." He snuggled into his doctor's chest.

Because John was _his_. He was _his_. _His_ doctor, _his_ … well he didn't now what they were now, but he was all_ his_.

John was Sherlock's. And Sherlock was John's.

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, as it should be.


End file.
